


the papercut that kills you

by stars-at-night (DrowningInStarlight)



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Ficlet, Kissing, Other, Swords, don't look at me, there is nothing actually nsfw in this fic but. there Are heavy suggestive themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/stars-at-night
Summary: Margaret is not unfamiliar with blades.
Relationships: Gable/Margaret/Travis Matagot
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	the papercut that kills you

**Author's Note:**

> do not look at me!!!! and the swords thing is NOT a dick metaphor okay!!! 
> 
> title from that unwanted animal by the amazing devil.

Margaret is enjoying this, she has to admit. Gable is sitting on one end of the bed, fingers twisting the cuff of their shirt, and Travis is at the other, his legs tucked underneath him. They’re both watching her with such rapt attention that she can feel it, feel the magic filling the room with soft, buzzy power. It’s intoxicating, warm and dizzying. 

She doesn’t look at either of them, or stop to kiss them both until they can only whisper her name, even though she would like to, very much. There’s time for that. All the time in the world. Instead, she looks at the other thing calling for her attention. 

She tilts her head at Gable questioningly. “May I?” she asks. 

“Pl— please,” Gable says, and they gesture to the sword lying between them on the bed. Not any sword. _Gable’s_ sword. It’s not on fire, not now, but it’s still big and beautiful and so very, very dangerous. The weapon used to kill the Sovereign himself. That’s the sword that Gable is almost pleading for her to take. 

That’s one hell of a power kick, made only stronger by how electric Gable’s trust is in the air. It’s enough to send a shiver of anticipation down even Margaret’s spine. 

“It’s all yours,” Gable continues. “Whatever you want.” 

“Thank you, my darling,” Margaret says, and they avert their eyes. Oh, Margaret loves them. They’re harder to fluster nowadays than they were when she first met them, but in other ways, still so adorably shy about all this. 

She reaches forward and gently touches the sword’s hilt. The grip is cold and smooth, and when she picks it up, it’s much lighter than she expects. It’s not like any other sword she’s ever held, but that is probably to be expected, considering. She gets up and swings it so suddenly that Gable blinks, and Margaret laughs in exhilaration. Travis’s eyes are wide, and his gaze flickers between Margaret and the blade, the blade and Margaret. 

“Are you finished playing around?” he says, and Margaret recognises it for the challenge that it is. He’s playing to get her attention. It’s sweet, and sweeter still are the cracks in his performance, the note in his voice that makes Gable flush pink. 

Margaret looks at him for a long moment, the sword resting idly on her shoulder, and he holds the eye contact. Then she takes a few smooth steps to stand behind him where he sits on the corner of the bed. She leans in close to his ear, and lifts the sword to his throat. 

Travis swallows hard, and seems to hold his breath. The sword just rests there, touching his skin but not hurting him, close and tender and terrifying. She can imagine how it must feel, the way he can hear her breathing in his ear. 

“Are you going to behave, Mr Matagot?” she asks. He takes a shakily, audible breath, and Gable moves a little, like they can’t decide if they want to go to his aid or watch him like this forever. 

“...yeah,” he breathes, after an eternity. “I’m— I’m going to.” 

Margaret smiles. “Now then,” she says, “There’s a good boy.” 

She lowers the sword and he slumps back into her, the fight released all at once. She catches him easily, and he tilts his head for a kiss. She obliges him. He’s behaving so wonderfully, after all. 

She kisses him until she decides that Gable’s watched for long enough, then she lets him go with a gentle touch of his cheek, leaving him breathless and flushed. She walks back up the side of the bed to Gable, trailing the sword behind her casually. When she’s standing and they’re sitting on the bed, she’s taller, and she can see Gable realise this. 

“Aren’t you—” they visibly try to fix the crack in their voice. “Aren’t you going to threaten me too?” 

“I don’t know, Gable,” she says, giving them an innocent look. “Would you like to be threatened?” 

“I— it’s _my_ sword.” 

“It is. Has anyone ever turned it on you?” She lifts it slowly and points it at them, so the length of the blade separates them. She lowers it until the point rests just above Gable’s heart. 

“No,” they say, barely more than a whisper, staring at her with something like adoration. “And no one else ever will. Only you.” 

Margaret smiles, warmly surprised. “See,” she says, glancing at Travis. “Gable knows how to be good. Aren’t they doing so well?” 

Travis makes an incomprehensible grumpy sound and moves up the bed to be at Gable’s side. It’s such a Travis movement, the mixture of not wanting to be left out and not wanting Gable threatened alone. He presses in close, and Gable wraps their arm around him, even as they don’t take their eyes off Margaret. 

She can’t help but smile again as she stands above them, weapon in hand, watching the way they give in ever so easily to her slightest command. Oh, but she’s going to enjoy this night.


End file.
